


Backspace Drabbles

by backspaceunlimited



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-12
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-11-29 00:58:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/backspaceunlimited/pseuds/backspaceunlimited
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>these are just some of drabbles that i've been doing on my tumblr blog and i decided to smoosh them together in one masterpost. these are just basically all porn so yea</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. johndave: rimming

**Author's Note:**

> if you want to request something i'll write it for you
> 
> send me a msg here or to backspaceunlimited.tumblr.com

“Ok this is weird Dave, this is really weird.”

“Shut up and let me shave your asshole.”

Its a pretty tight fit in the bathtub. John’s on his hands and knees with his forehead pressed into the wall, trying to give you enough space so that the bathspout doesn’t jab you in the back.

You drizzle L’Oreal Kids Apple Bodywash over his cheeks like chocolate syrup on two huge fucking scoops of vanilla.

“This thing is like a lovechild of the gods.” You massage the soap into a thick lather, taking probably more time than is necessary to grab handfuls of his butt and squeeze.

“Helen of Troy has nothing on this, its fucking beautiful. This ass could launch ten thousand ships, three airborne brigades, a subterranean tunnel network, and a goddamn land war in Asia.”

“Oh my god. Can you please just get this over wi – ahhhh.”

John groans softly into the bath tile. Apparently sticking your finger in someone’s ass is a good way to make them hush.

You work the lather between his cheeks, using one hand to keep them spread. Once he’s good and soaped up, you reach for the razor you bought just for this occasion.

“Alright dude, hold still. Venus Embrace coming at ya.”

“Did you have to buy a lady’s razor?”

“Does it matter? They have more blades, so smoother shave.”

“Its just my butt dude, it doesn’t have to be perfect.” He wiggles his hips and his ass seductively follows.

“If you want my tongue anywhere near there, then yeah its gotta be perfect.”

“Fine.”

You like his big hairy butt. You like his butt probably more than could be definably cool. What you don’t like is getting a mouthful every time you try to rim him.

You make a tentative swipe with the razor just above his hole. John shivers.

“That thing is cold!” The verbal response doesn’t match his physical response, and he presses back towards you.

“Egbert don’t move, otherwise I’m going to slice you in a place that I promise you won’t wanna be sliced.”

He groans impatiently, and you put a hand on his butt to hold him steady. A few minutes of nitpicky cleanup and you pull away, satisfied with the aesthetic difference. You left most of the hair, just took off enough so that you can actually see what you’re about to be all up in.

You reach and grab the shower head, turning the temperature slightly hotter. John’s back arches when the water hits his spine. Soap runs off his ass tantalizingly, and he flat-out moans when you wash out his ass crack.

“Fuuuuuck.”

“Told you this was a good idea.”

“Why does your brother have a retractable shower head?”

“Way to kill my boner dude.”

When you’re confident that all the suds are gone, and that John is sufficiently worked up, you replace the shower head and get to work with your hands. You massage the cleft of his ass, repositioning him for better access.

He whines when you spread him and lean down, admiring your handiwork. He smells like apples and pure John and be damned if you don’t just want to fuck him right there.

His bottom cheeks rest against your cheeks as you blow a light stream of air into his hole. His butt muscles tense around your face, and he gasps.

“Oh god.”

You tilt your head up slightly so your voice isn’t muffled by his copious badonkadonk.

“Hey thunderbutt don’t flex. You’re gonna smother me.” You lean back down.

“Smothering Wuthering Heights in your druthering ass chooses the motion I’ll give it a plundering - ” You flatten your tongue and broadly lick up his ass crack. “And all the devotion it deserves so swerve if you ain’t into this hors d’oeuvre, crank up that commotion cause this is about to be fucking ambrosian.”

“Dave.” John is panting heavily. “Are you rapping into my ass???”

“No.” You suck on his entrance and he swallows the rest of his protest.

Your tongue is now too busy to be slinging fresh rhymes. You point the tip and trace it around his backside, eliciting another small groan from John. Your tongue flicks out, causing him to gasp as it makes contact, and his hips push back into you.

Ok, enough of the light shit.

You wrap your arms around his upper thighs, drawing his booty even closer to your mouth. Your hands busy themselves with softly stroking his cock. You allow yourself to drool slightly onto his entrance before pointing your tongue and pressing it forward into him.

He’s tight and a little tense, so you try to wiggle the tip slightly to loosen him up. You remove one hand from his cock and trace a line down his spine with your fingertips. He shudders and relaxes around you.

You take the opportunity to push your whole tongue inside him.

“Shit. That feels … ahhh, really good.””

He can barely keep himself from bucking back onto you when you start to swirl your tongue around inside him. His cries are starting to get louder and echo off the bathroom walls and its so fucking hot holy shit you just want to tongue fuck him until he moans your name.

You pull out of him and he whimpers in the absence. You lap at his hole for a few seconds before plunging back in as far as you can.

“MMMph.”

You repeat the process, this time licking for a shorter period of time. John snaps his hips back to meet you and with a massive groan he lets his immediate pleasure take over. You grab one of his hips and try to establish a comfortable rhythm of penetration, pausing only to lick and suck and hear John gasp and shudder beneath you.

You pump his cock in rhythm with your ass ministrations and soon enough his thrusts start to become erratic and his panting and moaning escalates to a high pitched wail and then he’s spilling himself all over your hand.

“Nnnngdave fuuuck.”

You squeeze him until he’s spent and breathy heavily beneath you. He leans back, not really caring to support himself on his arms any more, and you snuggle your cheek into that plump rump for a few minutes while he recovers.

Soon enough (too soon) he shifts positions awkwardly in the tub to face you, and fumbles for something next to the soap dish.

“Your turn.” He holds up the pink razor.

“No fucking way.”


	2. johnkat: blackrom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***********this one needs a warning for breathplay and violence*******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you want to request something i'll write it for you
> 
> send me a msg here or to backspaceunlimited.tumblr.com

The human recipe book calls it _Chicken Mole Oaxaqueno_ , and the scent drifting from the boiling pot is one of the finest things that has ever been wafted towards your sniffnode.

1 medium white onion  
3 large garlic cloves  
1 (1-inch) piece cinnamon stick  
2 tablespoons skinned shelled raw peanuts  
3 black peppercorns  
3 whole cloves  
3 tablespoons vegetable oil  
1 1/2 tablespoons raisins  
1 oregano sprig  
1/2 lb tomatoes

You pour the thickened sauce over a baked cluckbeast thigh, and garnish with another fresh sprig of oregano.

“Karkat are you done yet? I’ve been sitting here by myself a long time and I’m kinda hungry.”

“Hold on to your human gurgle tank for just two more fucking minutes Egbert.”

You examine the nutrition plateau for any lingering splashes that could ruin your presentation, then assess your own physical presentation for anything that could give away the slightest hint that your intentions maybe be less than honorable.

Its just fucking John, emperor of the oblivious dork nozzles, but that bastard must use those absurd front teeth as mischief dousing rods. You straighten your clothes and set your standard grimace in place. This is ridiculous.

The mole is the same texture as grub sauce, though less green and likely less alive. When you place the dish in front of John, he has the audacity to sniff your masterpiece.

“Wow, it smells really good!”

“Of course it does asshole, I made it.”

He grins good-naturedly like he always does when you talk to him. He never gets fucking snarky with you like he does to everyone else, its always just unbridled enthusiasm that makes you want to shove your nubby horns directly up your seedflap and break them off inside. You fucking loathe him.

“I’m glad that you’re enjoying cooking so much! Its good for you to have a hobby.”

“My hobby was attempting to lead all you blithering feculant nubcarcasses away from impending doom, but since that’s a fucking dreambubble load of shit, I will endeavor to discover the nuances of human food culture.”

“Good for you Karkat!” John squints his eyes just slightly and you know he’s thinking too hard about this. Fuck.

“Why do you want me to try your dish first? I thought you were still mad about the whole fruit-punch-in-your-recuperacoon prank.”

“I thought I was dying of some sort of invisible wound or a massive herniating bulge explosion and you just stood there laughing your oral sphincter off which CLEARY wasn’t going to help with the monolithic freakout I was going through.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“Apology not accepted shitstain. Anyway I want you to try it first because I plan on making a bunch for the lot of you undeserving fuckwads and I need to know if the recipe is viable. Who better to feed potentially shitty food to than the windsock-headed village ignoramus.”

“I’m sure its gonna be great, and either way its a home-cooked meal.” He smiles and begins tearing into the cluckbeast. You pull out the chair across from him and wait.

He tries to make small talk but you just shoosh him every time. It doesn’t take very long.

John starts coughing about five minutes into the meal.

“Sorry uhhh, I think some went – down the wrong tube.” He places a fist to his chest and coughs harder.

He gasps for air, and suddenly recognition dawns in his eyes.

“What – did you put – in this??” He’s wheezing and you can’t help but grin savagely.

“Just some onion, some garlic, raisins.” You pause and his eyes grow wide.

“Peanuts.”

“You assho -” John’s face is start to turn red and he can barely breath. His face is swollen and he’s terrified and its oh so fucking perfect.

“Epi-” He manages to gasp out.

“What’s the matter John? God Tier Hero of Breath can’t get enough air? Someone call the doucheknight, we’ve got plenty of irony all up in this bitch.”

John can’t speak anymore. His eyes are rolling back into his head and he’s clawing at his throat. You chuckle at him.

“Don’t worry John! This certainly can’t count as your HEROIC death! Goodbye for now you pile of incomprehensibly putrid garbage.”

John slumps in his chair, mouth agape, and you wait for him to flicker with that slightly unnerving bullshit light of the universe. His skin begins to glow and you shield your eyes from the flash of energy that signals his regeneration.

When you finally look, John is hovering over his chair, smoking slightly. His grin is gone, and replaced with something nigh fucking unreadable, maybe a cross between fear and pain and anger. You admit that its kind of hot.

“Now we’re even dipshit.”

John doesn’t shout. In fact, his voice is so quiet that you strain to hear it. “We’re far from even.”

You feel a wind pick up and before you can turn to run John raises his hands and a gust slams you into the nearest wall.

“OOFfuck.”

John approaches slowly, bobbing slightly up and down on his own breeze. His face splits into a grin that doesn’t reach his eyes and it makes him look fucking deranged. You start to panic.

Now you can barely breathe. The pressure of the wind on your chest is crushing your oxygen sacs and drawing ragged gasps is becoming a chore.

“Stop – fuck – I’m not – God Tier – asshole.”

John is now close enough to lean into your face. He traces his bottom lip with his tongue and grins wider.

“I know.”

He kisses you savagely, crushing his lips to yours, and you have a moment of oh shit fuck yes before something starts to feel strange.

John giggles into your mouth. Then he starts sucking.

Your gasps suddenly don’t make it past your lips, and you feel what little air was inside you being pulled out of your body. You start to thrash around, trying desperately to hit John, to push him off you, but your muscles are feeling oxygen starved already and you can barely move.

Spots are starting to form on your vision and you want to scream because your brain is fuzzy and the only sense you really have going for you right now is touch and John’s lips are pure ecstasy and you have a moment where you think that if this is the way you have to die, then that’s ok because its pretty fucking perfect.

You don’t remember passing out. You do remember waking up to Terezi poking you in the fucking cheek with her goddamn cane.

“Karkles? Is that you?”

You grumble a few curses and open your eyes to a massive headache. You’re wrapped in one of John’s bedsheets and laying on the floor.

“You smell like blue raspberry.” She grins and shows her teeth. Fucking nostril sleuthing bullshit.

“Its none of your business.”

“That’s fine. John just wanted me to find you and give you a message.”

Shit. “What message.”

“He said to tell you:” She clears her throat and does a nasally imitation of John’s voice. “Let’s do dinner again sometime.”

You pull the blanket over your head and dash your skull against the fucking floor.


	3. davejohn: wet dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you want to request something i'll write it for you
> 
> send me a msg here or to backspaceunlimited.tumblr.com

LOWAS isn’t exactly the epitome of savage badassery that you’re used to on LOHAC.

It does have better mood lighting though.

“I knew you were a snuggler Egbert, but damn.”

John smiles into your chest under the glow of the fucking fireflies and its almost like you dropped ass-first into some scene from a Nicholas Sparks novel. Not that you read those or enjoy them or anything gay like that.

The two of you are reclined on a massive rock outcropping that overlooks one of the salamander villages. The viscous gurgle of a oil waterfall beside you downs out the harried glubs of the creatures below.

“Well its not like I get to see you all the time.” John’s voice is muffled into your shirt.

“You could come to my place y’know.”

“Nah its too hot.” He looks up at you. “And too … well, lava. Just lava.”

“And I’m still the hottest thing there.” You smirk and shift your body against him until the two of you are mostly horizontal. Both of your shirts ride up and you can feel the smooth skin of his stomach on your abdomen.

“Whatever.” He kisses you softly, and the sensation trails from your mouth to pool at the bottom of your gut. How the dork got to be such a good kisser, you’ll never know. Its not like genetics really helped him out in the oral department or anything.

Speaking of oral.

John reaches down to unbutton your pants and well this is escalating more quickly than you thought it would.

“Dave why aren’t you wearing underwear?”

“I ran out of clean pairs.”

“We haven’t even been here that long.”

“Hey I’ve technically been in the goddamn medium way longer than you have, what with being the time guy and all that -” He grabs your semi and you guess he can figure out the rest of that statement cause you fucking forgot.

John idly pumps you, grinning as he watches your face heat.

“What if the fucking salamanders see us?”

“Its not like they would know what was happening.”

“What if they like mimic us or some shit and start a slimy bubble popping dick orgy?”

“They aren’t going to see!” John presses his thumb to the underside of your cockhead and your breath hitches.

“So are you gonna get to sucking on that or what?”

“Oh, I dunno.” John switches your dick to his left hand

“You’re not gonna make me beg, are you Egbert?”

“Not yet.” He wraps his mouth around the tip of your cock, teasing the slit with his tongue.

You close your eyes and press your hips upward, sighing as he takes more into his mouth.

“That’s more like it.”

John puts his thumbs under the open waistband of your jeans and shucks them down to your ankles. Your bare thighs are kinda cold in the breeze but he more than makes up for it by sucking you hard.

You feel his body shift, but fuck if you’re gonna open your eyes cause this is feeling pretty damn good for a snuggle date under the fireflies.

“Ready Dave?”

“Ready for whatohshit.” You open your eyes and John is tracing your asshole with a finger covered in some sort of black goop.

“Is that fucking OIL?”

“Yea, why?”

“Dude you can’t put that anywhere in or around my ass, shit’s unsanitary.” You shift your hips slightly. “Besides, who said you were gonna top anyway?”

“I did.” John puts his sticky fingers in his mouth and licks them. “See, its just fine. Tastes a little like blueberries.”

“Why would it taste like blueberries, there is no reason for it to taste like goddamn blueberries.” You lay your head back on the rock. “Sounds like something from one of Terezi’s wet dreams.”

“You’re about to get laid, I don’t know why you’re complaining so much.”

“For starters, you’re trying to use the substance that’s poisoning this planet as lube for my asshole. Second, this shit about you topping doesn’t really make sense.” You glance around at the scenery, and for the first time, you notice that spots of the landscape are hazy, like a motion-blurred photo.

When you meet John’s eyes, they seem much bluer than their normal hue. Fuck.

“This is a dream isn’t it.”

John grins. Actually you must imagine that John would grin in this scenario, so the dream analog of John grins like a fucking douche.

“Maybe.”

You stare at him hard for a second. “Only one way to find out.”

John’s pants disappear.

“Cool, lucid dreaming, ok.”

“Do you still want to top?”

“I guess my subconscious is a bottom bitch.”

John slathers more lube on your ass in response.

“Do you need preparation?” His expression is full of amusement.

“I’d rather just get to the fucking, thanks”

John lines his cock up to your asshole and buries himself inside you to his hips. You throw your head back and let out a surprisingly loud moan.

“It doesn’t hurt?”

“No – fuck Egbert, just keep – ah going.”

John snaps his hips back and slams into you again.

“FuuckshitJohnfuck.” You’re swirling in an ecstasy that you’re sure is only a sexually repressed teenage idealized version of sex but fuck if you care cause John is so good at this and you’re getting the dream shit fucking boned out of you. You feel an overwhelming heat building in your lower stomach and shit you are gonna go fast.

“You’re getting awful hot and bothered down there.” John’s voice is way more even than yours.

“What – fuckahh - and you aren’t?” Your words come out as mostly incoherent mumbles because you’ve pretty much forgotten how your tongue is supposed to work.

John starts to moan like a goddamn pornstar. He grabs your leg and slings it over his shoulder and drives into you hard. “You’re so fucking hot Dave.”

You buck into his thrusts, feeling the full length of him inside you. He digs his fingernails into your hips and leans down at an impossible angle to take your dick into his mouth. God that tongue jesus fucking christ.

That’s all it takes and you squeeze your eyes shut, savoring the rolling sensations of pleasure that rock you from the the tips of your shades to your toes. You cum hard into John’s mouth, thrusting your hips upward until you feel your cock hit the back of his throat.

You relax, slumping back onto the rock below you, and open your eyes, fulling expecting to see John’s baby blues ready to cuddle the shit out of you.

Instead you lock gaze with a pair of lavender irises.

“Having fuuuun Dave?” Rose cackles and you recoil. Your head thumps against the wall behind your bed, and you rush to cover yourself with a blanket.

“What the everliving FUCK Rose, were you watching me sleep?”

She laughs again, a drunken hiccuping. “I wsgonna comeask you a question, an’ I stayed for the show.”

“Get out of my room.” You’re starting to feel the stickiness in your god tier pajamas and fuck you actually creamed yourself in front of your sister, this is gonna have serious psychological ramifications.

“Going, going. I’ll bsure to let John know what y’think oh his raging boydong.”

“OUT.”

She wobbles through the doorway and her tittering laugh echoes through the hallway. You collapse on your sheets.

Good thing you just got off, because after that, the entirety of existence is gonna have to collapse before you get another boner.


	4. johndavesprite: cloaca

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> if you want to request something i'll write it for you
> 
> send me a msg here or to backspaceunlimited.tumblr.com

Someone keeps stealing your stuff.

It started out with your toothbrush, and its not like you don’t already have enough issues in the mouth department without bad hygiene to boot. Then it was your comb. Again, you don’t really need help making your hair look any more terrible than it already does.

But this is the final straw.

Someone has taken your razor. Your manly shaving razor bequeathed to you by your father after you stole it from his bedroom that one time.

This is unacceptable. And the patchy hairs sprouting above your upper lip agree.

You’re sure that one of the consorts has taken them, even though they mostly just steal hats and bedsheets. Maybe they’ve collectively decided to start upgrading their ensembles or something. Either way, you’re going to need backup. Someone who is going to keep you firm when those salamanders look up at you with their cute little bubbles popping and -

You need help.

The person most immune to the charms of the little guys is Dave Sprite. You need Dave Sprite.

He’s typically either lounging in the gaming area or shut up in his room. You try his room first because there are always consorts glubbing around the common areas.

You don’t bother knocking, its not like he ever knocks when he comes in your room to borrow your hammer for ‘mysterious projects’ (you joked that he was building a nest or something and he got all bird fluffy for a second).

You weren’t expecting to find your razor so quickly.

You especially weren’t expecting to find it halfway inside Dave Sprite.

He doesn’t hear you come in because of windy lightfootedness or something. He does hear when you let out a very undignified “Uhhhh …”

He produces a similar if not more undignified “CAW,” and throws your razor across the room. It lands in the corner, splattering some weird orange gunk in its wake.

“Uhhh.”

He just stares at you.

“Should I go or?” You chew on your bottom lip. This is weird.

He sighs heavily and falls back on his bed with an exasperated groan, wings fluttering out to the side of his body to keep them from getting crushed. He shoves his shades up to rest of the top of his hair and rubs his eyes with his palms.

You take a step forward. “Well I was actually just coming to ask you to help me get some missing bathroom stuff back from the consorts but, I guess …” He starts shaking his head slowly.

Dave Sprite rolls over and faces the wall. You notice that the place where his skin transitions into the feathers on his neck is flushing a bright orange.

Man, he looks so mortified. You should just leave because you aren’t sure what he was doing, but you’re also a teenage boy so you have a vague idea.

“What exactly were you -?” You’re not sure how to phrase this.

Crap he’s sitting up. He takes a few deep breaths a flicks his ghosty tail before meeting your gaze.

“Honest fucking truth I was trying to get myself off.” He sighs again and scratches his feathery ruff with long filed fingernails.

“Oh.” You figured as much. But you weren’t expecting him to come out and say it right in front of your face.

“Yep.”

You should leave. This is obviously a private moment and you’re ruining it by standing there gaping at him when he’s obviously feeling really self-conscious.

“Why did you need my toothbrush or whatever?”

He stares at you incredulously. “Because I can’t do it.”

“What?”

“I can’t get myself off.”

You have no fucking clue what he’s talking about, so you just let the Egbert take over and keep asking possibly inappropriate and invasive questions. “Why not? I mean, its not that hard to like. You know.” You make a vague gesture with your hands.

“I can’t exactly spank it if I’ve got nothing to spank.”

Oh. Wait, what. “What?”

He flutters his wings huffily and god he looks so frustrated that you just want to hug him.

“My dick. Is gone. And I haven’t figured out how this new shit works. And its been six months. And I swear if I don’t ejaculate on something soon I’m going to fuckin’ explode.”

“Oh.” You shudder, trying to imagine what life would be like without your nightly ministrations. No wonder he’s more cranky and brooding than you ever remember Dave being, which in itself is saying a lot.

“Want me to take a look?” The words are out of your mouth before you can even think of filtering yourself. Oh well.

Dave Sprite squawks and curls up around himself, tail looping over his shoulder and wings pulling forward like a feathery shield.

“No thanks dude.”

“No homo.” You giggle a little and his wings relax slightly. “Besides, if I was having the same problem, I would want you to help.”

“Really now.” He quirks an eyebrow and whoops that came out really wrong.

“Move over.”

You sit on his bed before he can protest further. He ruffles his feathers and chirps softly.

“Ok, where is this thing. Lets get to the bottom of it.” You snort at your own shitty joke. Dave doesn’t look amused.

“That doesn’t work.”

“What doesn’t work.”

He sighs and untangles his tail from around his shoulders, letting it droop to the floor. You stare at where his dick should be, and instead see a swollen fleshy bit lurking among orange feathers.

“What is that?”

“I don’t fucking know. Internet says its like a clooca or a claboodle or a cockadoodle anti-doodle or something dumb like that.”

“Oh.” You brush a few of his feathers away in order to get a better view. He flinches.

“Shhh.” You’ve found that sometimes if you speak to Dave Sprite like you would to a frightened bird, he calms down significantly.

“So, it doesn’t work to just, like, put stuff in it?” That’s how vaginas are supposed to work right?

Right.

“No. I’ve fucked myself on all manner of household objects and it just hurts more than anything.”

You take a chance and brush your fingers over the opening. Dave Sprite makes a small noise that is more bird than human.

“Does that feel good?” You basically didn’t do anything.

“Better than the handle of your razor.”

“Ok.” You put pressure on the outer edge of the opening with your thumb and he tucks his wings tightly behind his back. His breath hitches.

“What does that feel like?” He’s not really giving you any useful feedback.

“It feels like you have your thumb on my coobukla. My clakalaka.”

You groan and pull your hand away. Dave Sprite sighs and lets some of the tension drain from his shoulders.

“Don’t worry about it man. I’ll just swear an oath to teenage celibacy or something.”

“No way dude.” You pause and look at the orange stuff on your thumb. Fighting curiosity was never your strong suit. You take a lick.

“Oh.”

“Yes the universe has fucking conspired to make my birdpussy taste like Orange Crush.”

“Oh.” Well that’s enough of a hint for you.

Before he can struggle or freak out, you lean over him and lay a tentative lick on the opening.

“Fffffdamn.” You feel one of Dave Sprite’s wings flutter against your back.

Your mouth tastes sweet. “How is that?”

“Just keep doing it.”

You lick him again, circling the entrance with the tip of your tongue but not probing inside. His claws run through your hair and your hear him choke out a breathy moan.

You put your mouth fully on him and suck lightly. He thrashes beneath you and grabs at the roots of your hair, making more noise than you’ve heard him make on the entire journey thus far.

“FUCAW, John that’s all I can -” His words tumble out in a half groaned slurry, and suddenly your mouth floods with more of the sticky liquid. You lap it up and his body starts to quiver. He coos, sounding very much birdlike, and you raise your head from his lap to look into his eyes.

“C’mere Egbert.” He grabs you under the armpits and pulls you close to him, wrapping his wings around the two of you. You nestle your cheek into his feathers.

“You went fast dude.”

“I’m gonna say that’s a bird thing.”

“Also probably a not-jacking-off-for-six-months thing.”

“Sure, that too.”


	5. johndave: super queer sexual renaissance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you want to request something i'll write it for you
> 
> send me a msg here or to backspaceunlimited.tumblr.com

“Dude someone is going to see us.”

“No way, stop worrying. Everyone left like an hour ago.”

“No seriously, I mean it.”

“Quit it.” John splashes and you sputter in the water. Shit, you should really move to the shallow end.

He gulps a breath of air and goes under the surface. You feel his fingers tracing down your stomach and you pull back from his touch.

He pops back up laughing and spits water at you. “Its not fair Dave.”

“What isn’t fair.” Your muscles are starting to get tired from treading water.

“That all those guys on the swim team get to see you in a speedo and I don’t.”

“You come to every meet dude, you get to see my spandexed ass plenty.” Ok, your muscles really ache.

“Yeah but they get to see you at all the practices too.”

“Then why don’t you join the team Egbert, you can make sure to swim behind me during endurance training.” Actually, you and John probably wouldn’t even be in the same lane. He’s a much better swimmer than you, a point which is blatantly obvious when he splashes again and you nearly sink.

“Cause all those guys are assholes.” He does a half stroke towards you an places a light kiss on your lips.

“Why don’t we go to the locker room or something man?” You can’t really deter him when he gets like this. Not that you would want to because its pretty damn cute and it usually results in your dick getting canoodled, but you feel exposed in the pool under all the fluorescent lighting.

“Oh c’mon, you’ve been doing extra laps for like an hour. Everyone that was at practice is already long gone.”

“Yeah, you don’t seem to comprehend the part where ‘I’ve been doing extra laps for an hour’ and I’m tired as shit.” You stop treading and begin to float on your back for emphasis. Ok, also because your legs were about to give out.

You overlooked one small detail. Laying on your back causes your junk to bob up and down on the surface of the water like some sort of dong jellyfish.

A hand immediately starts squeezing you through your speedo. You tense up, and your head slips under the surface.

“What are you doing?” Chlorinated pool water goes down your throat. Jesus fuck.

“WATER YOU DOING?” John giggles at his own shitty pun / impression of your panic and you scowl at him. “Just relax Dave. Seriously you are too wound up.”

Fingers brush your spine and push you back into floating position. One hand on your dick and one hand under your back, the fucker is treading with only his legs like its just no big deal. You close your eyes to get away from the victorious grin on his face.

He starts massaging you with his palm and ok that actually feels fucking nice. You rut your hips into his hand as much as your dare to. The combination of small gasps and shuddered exhales as he works his hand across the tight fabric keep you bobbing comfortably on the surface of the pool.

“Wow, you aren’t going to fit if I keep this up.” You crack one eye open and see the head of your cock peeping out from underneath the waistband of your speedo.

“Take it off.” The phrase comes out breathy and mumbled, and you don’t even know how he got you worked up so fast.

“Hell yes.” He slides his fingers underneath your wet swimsuit and traces circles around your cock head. You let out a quiet groan when he spreads precum across your skin with his fingertips.

“Let’s get you out of this.” He drags your suit down over your ass and lifts it over your dick. The exposure leaves you feeling self conscious and you pull your hips under the surface of the water.

“Nope.” John tugs your speedo down your thighs slightly and raises your ass with his other hand. Your spam porpoise breaches the surface of the water and you moan.

“You like that huh?” John cups his hand and fills it with water, then lets droplets trickle through his fingers over your cock. Goosebumps trail across your skin.

“Fuck. John.” You try to buck up into his hovering hand.

He obliges and grabs you, firmly stroking you and rolling your tip between his fingers. You throw your head back and water gets into your eyes but you don’t even care.

“Lower your hips Dave.” John’s voice is taking on that husky quality it gets when he’s really fucking turned on and the sound of it causes your dick to twitch in his hand. A glance down shows that the boxers he’s wearing are tented under the water.

You allow your lower half to sink slightly into the water. His hand is still firmly grasping your ass, so you don’t have to concentrate on floating.

He begins to stoke you again, this time half under the surface. Holy shit, the feel of his fingers combined with the lapping water against your cock is driving you crazy and you can’t help but throw your hips up into his hand. Your moans echo obscenely against the tile of the natatorium and you don’t even care if anyone is around because damn.

“Shhhhit.” You slam into the palm of his hand and he matches your increasingly erratic strokes. The water around you is becoming choppy but somehow John manages to keep treading.

Your ears are half under the surface of the water, so it takes you a minute to process when he says “ - like you – clean-shaven – fuck.”

“Hydrodynamics.” You manage to gasp.

You up at him and he’s staring at your body like its the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. Strands of his dark hair are plastered to his forehead and a water droplet slides down his jawline. Without his square frames, his face looks less angular, more intimate. He meets your gaze and bites his lower lip. You feel a flush spread hotly across your cheeks.

He deliberately leans down and begins lapping his tongue against the ridge of your hip bone. You squirm against him until the tongue is replaced by a sharp stinging pain that goes straight to your cock. John bites down hard and sucks and god that is going to leave a bruise and all the guys are going to see it and you can’t think of anything hotter than that.

John groans against your skin and starts jacking you in earnest and the vibrations send heat flooding down your body. Your loudest moan yet turns into a gurgle when your mouth slips under the water and you cum hard, grinding into John’s hand, spilling yourself all over him and into the water and fuck.

Your muscles go limp from exhaustion and John wraps an arm around your torso, pulling you vertical. You tangle your arms around this neck and the two of you just float for a while like that, with John lazily kicking and you trying to calm your breathing.

“Well, that was fun.” John licks your earlobe and nuzzles into your neck. “Same time next week.”

“Can we at least do it in the shallow end?”

“Nope.


	6. alphadave/johncrocker: viagra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you want to request something i'll write it for you
> 
> send me a msg here or to backspaceunlimited.tumblr.com

Confound that boy.

His people must have done some fucking finagling to get him a seat next to you for the ceremony. You’re sure that the National Comedy Awards Committee is very selective about seating at this event.

Then again, it makes for good press: the old legend side by side with the successful young pup.

It is risky though. Dave slouches next to you, looking totally bored with crossed arms and his trademark shades perched on the bridge of his nose. His lips are pursed tightly and you have a hard time not imagining what those lips were doing last time you saw him. Oh my.

The announcer drolls on, making cringe-worthy jokes. You honestly don’t know why they are trying so hard, especially when confronted with a room of people who know the tropes already. You smile brightly when appropriate, occasionally twirling the end of your mustache and guffawing for the cameras.

Dave is good at his act too. He just looks annoyed, and scoffs at the really terrible jokes. The cameras seem to love the two of you. Opposite reactions, opposite demeanor, truly a May/December situation.

You chuckle at yourself.

Dave looks over at you with practiced apathy, and you’re sure some dumbass takes a winning photo of the interaction. The corner of his mouth twitches in a way that would be undetectable to anyone else but you.

Suddenly, there’s commotion from the stage as one of the award winners is confronted by an unrewarded nominee. Its the most staged and scripted load of bullshit that you have ever seen, and you’re glad that these types of events are only just now starting to devolve. The paparazzi eats it up though, and they all simultaneously swing to catch the drama, forgetting the crowd entirely. You take the opportunity to relax into a more sarcastic chuckle.

Dave takes the same opportunity to stick his hand into your pocket under the armrest.

You jump slightly when you feel him slide into your silk pocket. He shakes his tousled blond head twice and lets a smirk ghost over his features. This fingers are rooting around your thigh, obviously trying to get you riled up in the most embarrassing way.

You’re not as young as you used to be. Its not going to work.

The drama is beginning to wind down as the pageantry is ushered off the stage. You elbow Dave in the ribs, and he lingers for only a moment longer before pulling his hand out. You see out of the corner of your eye that his fingers are curled into a light fist.

The little bastard must have grabbed something from your pocket.

But what did you have in there anyway? Pocketwatch is in your vest front, wallet in your coat.

Bollocks.

Dave cracks his fingertips slightly to reveal a small blue pill in the center of his palm.

You were hoping to need that later.

He almost lets a genuine grin slip as he surveys his treasure, then glances at your reddening face.

“What’s this?” he mutters from the corner of his mouth.

“You know very well what that is, boy.” Your voice is deep, so hopefully the shifting crowd muffles your response.

“But Mr. Crocker, what exactly were you expecting to do with it.”

“You. Obviously.”

He snorts and looks down at his lap. You straighten and put on a concerned face as cameras swing back your way. You are completely and utterly appalled by the performance on stage and not at all concerned with the eighteen year old boy next to you who stole your Viagra and happens to want your old man schlong. Nope.

You see cameras pan to Dave, and he makes a show of yawning hugely and placing a hand over his mouth to cover it. Something blue tumbles past his lips in the process.

You can’t believe he just did that.

He waits until the announcer begins to apologize for the commotion before swallowing, and you see him grimace slightly at the bitter taste on his tongue.

“Always wanted to try it.” His lips barely move, but you can still hear a faint hint of longing under his words.

If you can manage to get it up, tonight is going to be one hell of a ride.

You’ve still got several hours of this blasted awards ceremony left though. Your thoughts trail into smuttier prospects, and you have to constantly remind yourself to be the good-natured comedic all-star, as opposed to a closeted homosexual wolf who’s eying the delicious young cub next to him.

You’re sure glad you didn’t take the Viagra before the ceremony.

After about 45 minutes, you notice Dave shifting more often in his seat. You wonder if he has to use the loo or something. But then his breath hitches and he roughly crosses his leg and you know exactly what’s wrong.

Dave’s mind has been similarly in the gutter. Except his sex drive is naturally higher than yours, and he has chemical backup.

The tent in his dress pants is becoming noticeable.

The announcer makes a sub par joke, which gives you license to laugh hugely. The people around you chuckle, and Dave glares via the hard set of his mouth in your general direction.

“Something the matter Strider?” You lock your eyes on the stage and grin broadly.

He lets out an exasperated sigh, and crosses his legs in the opposite direction. You notice a slight flush creeping over his bright red bow-tie.

The four hours of lame jokes and self-promotions that follow are likely the longest of Dave’s life. He is fidgety to the point of annoyance, which surely the cameras pick up on. This could always be labeled as immaturity. It is his first large awards show after all.

He hides his burgeoning erection well to the unsuspecting onlooker. You notice however, and take every opportunity to accidentally rub against his arm while reaching for your drink. He lets out a small gasp every time.

This is the most entertaining awards show you’ve been to in years.

Unfortunately, you did forget one small detail.

Dave is doing the closing speech for the evening.

He seems to realize this as the last awards are being called. You hear him take some deep breaths, likely thinking of his grandmother in the bathtub or something equally repulsive. Wait, considering his current attraction, he might actually be into that.

Five minutes later he stands and begins walking to the stage, and you’ll be damned if the little bastard doesn’t look perfectly natural. You’re not sure what he was thinking about, but it must have been one hell of a mood-killer.

You’re honestly a little disappointed that he didn’t make a fool of himself. It would serve him right.

He slouches up onto the stage in those raggedly old red sneakers of his, clasping cue cards in his hand. His brand of comedy borders on the absurd, and on making his crowds unsure about whether to laugh or not. Its part of his enigma, and its what the press eats up.

You sense rather than see his eyes lock with yours as he approaches the microphone. He has to adjust the stand lower in order to fit his height, which is a comedic ploy built into the show. The crowd laughs. His eyes never leave you.

What the hell. You lean in your chair and place your arm over the back of his empty seat next to you. Doing so causes the position of your hips to rotate upwards ever so slightly. You see Dave swallow heavily. This position makes your left hip ache a little.

He fumbles with the mic more, and you’re not sure whether it was planned in his routine or not. Either way, it gets laughs. He’s still looking at you.

Time to pull out the big guns. You glance quickly at the cameras and make sure they are trained on Dave. Slowly, you wet your mouth with your tongue, then make a show of biting hard on your bottom lip and tilting your chin upwards slightly.

Dave stops touching the microphone and stares at the crowd, specifically at you in the crowd. He looks down at his feet, and you know he’s trying to latch on to whatever mood-killing thought he had earlier. Its not working.

Whispers and tittering giggles start from the front row, and you realize that everyone can see Dave’s uprising in his nether regions. You chuckle heartily at his expense.

Checkmate young pup.

Suddenly, he tosses the cue cards over his should with a flourish, and grabs the mic stand. He swings it out like some sort of rock star, and then pulls it close to his mouth.

“I’m Dave Strider, and this my boner.” He gestures down to his crotch with two fingers and the entire crowd gasps.

“G’night everybody.” He releases the microphone and it clatters onto the ground, then he saunters off the stage.

Everyone around you is buzzing excitedly. “Genius!” “Comedic gold!” “Where did this guy come from?”

You can’t believe he played that one off.

People are rising from their seats, and you do the same, straightening your jacket and smiling for a few camera flashes.

You sense Dave come up behind you, and a hand taps you on the shoulder. You turn your head just far enough to meet his eyes. He’s trying to play it cool, but you can tell from the blush on his cheeks that you just won.

The ceremony hall is loud, and you’re sure that no one else hears when he leans up and whispers. “I’ve had an erection lasting longer than four hours.”

“You should consult your physician.” You turn your head back around with a smirk.

“Sounds like a plan.”

He pinches your ass and you yelp before hastily striding out of the aisle.


	7. johndave: teen first times for things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you want to request something i'll write it for you
> 
> send me a msg here or to backspaceunlimited.tumblr.com

Ok. Yep. This is good. Right. Well.

How.

Ok.

“So.”

“Uhh, yea.”

You thumb a small hole in knee of your jeans. John taps his long fingers against the steering wheel.

“Right.”

“Ok.”

This is fucking absurd. He didn’t park in the back lot of a Fiesta Mart at 10pm just so the two of you could trade single syllable affirmations.

He clears his throat loudly and turns to you.

“Umm.”

Man up Strider, goddamnit. “We should. I mean if you. Uhm.” It all tumbles out in a slurry and god way to be totally smooth.

“Yeah, if that’s … ok.”

It shouldn’t be this fucking hard to kiss your best friend.

Ok, just start out slow. You used to hold his hand for ironic purposes all the time, before it became less than ironic and you got self-conscious.

You stick your arm out and grab his hand off the steering wheel. The movement is a little too fast and he flinches before lacing his fingers between yours. His hands are much larger, and the dark pigment of his skin stands out in stark contrast to your inherent paleness. His palm feels smooth against your callouses.

Ok, first base. Actually no this isn’t even first base. This is like, the star hitter batted the ball sideways and it flew into the out-of-bounds.

“Heh. So far so good.” His voice cracks on the word good. You just want to put your mouth all over his face or something like that.

You raise your eyebrows above your shades, hoping that it lends you a look of interested nonchalance. You probably just look constipated.

“Should we?” He nervously chews on his bottom lip and you zone in on the spot.

“Yep.” Ok, its cool. Just move in slowly. Close your eyes, tilt your head and …

Fuck you got too excited.

You hastily lean across the gear shift and lock lips with John Egbert.

It feels. Dry? Both of your lips are kind of chapped. But also its warm and John smells like garlic from the pizza you ate. You probably do too.

Its kind of a weird moment actually. Popping your smooch cherry with your best bro. Neither of you are moving or doing anything. You crack your eyelids to scope out his reaction. His eyes are wide and staring at you and its kind of startling.

Startling enough that you pull back a second before pressing firmly to his mouth again. Oh. That feels. Nice.

Some of the tension in John’s face relaxes away. Your heart feels like it might thump through your chest, and its kind of hard to breath through your nose like this. So movement is good. Got it.

You press another kiss on his mouth, this time at a slightly different angle. He sighs through his nose and moves his lips against yours in a similar fashion.

This isn’t hard, you don’t know what you were even worried about.

Besides, your brain is kind of going on autopilot now. You aren’t thinking much about how you’re doing anymore, but rather about how soft John feels and how there are electric jolts that run through your chest every time he kisses back.

You made it to first base for sure, although you probably did a bunt to get there or whatever. You don’t really know how that’s supposed to work.

John opens his lips slightly, and something kind of slimy flicks against your – oh. That’s tongue. John just slipped you tongue. Ok.

You mirror his movements by parting your lips and he just sort of shoves his whole tongue into your mouth and ok now you don’t know what to do.

He just, swirls it around? You guess you should do the same thing. Or something.

You move your tongue up to meet his and god you didn’t know your tongue was so sensitive, you just use it to help chew food but crap why didn’t you try the whole making out thing earlier.

Its starting to get hot in daddy Egbert’s car and you’ll bet your shades that the windows are going to fog up like you’re losing your virginity in some shitty Model T in the cargo hold of an unsinkable ocean liner whispering “John take me to the stars.”

Actually, you shouldn’t think about your virginity. The motions of John’s tongue are going straight to your dick and your jeans are starting to get a little uncomfortable.

Your arms are also getting cramped so you wrap them around John’s shoulders and thread your fingers through his coarse hair and he actually fucking moans in your mouth holy shit.

He breaks the kiss away and pulls back a few inches. You face feels flushed, and you’re surprised to note that you are panting pretty heavily. You scratch John’s scalp with your stubby fingernails and he lets out a deep sigh.

“You ok?” The breath from his words ghosts over your face.

“Yeah.” His lips are wet and red and kind of swollen and you just want to kiss them again.

“We should -” He grins shyly before finishing his statement. “Go to the backseat?”

“Fuck yeah.” You disentangle yourself from his neck and quickly hop in the back, sliding off to the side to give him room. He follows you more slowly, clumsily trying to navigate the armrests. You’re glad its late and fully dark outside, because the fogged windows and rocking car are a dead giveaway that teen boners are about to pop.

He sits next to you and there’s an awkward moment where you both try to grab the other but end up sort of tangling your arms together. He just laughs and you don’t even remember why you were so worried about all this in the first place.

You decide to take the initiative and crawl into his lap. Your jeans aren’t exactly loose anymore but you manage to straddle him and lean down for another kiss. He immediately gives you tongue and you sink into his chest, feeling his pulse going almost as fast as your own.

He rolls underneath you suddenly and wait. Was that. You tentatively press your hips forward. Oh. That’s his.

“Uh.” He sort of stammers into your mouth and thrusts his hips upward, causing your erection to be firmly pressed against his, through four layers of clothing.

“Oh.” Damn you are so fucking eloquent.

You aren’t even kissing anymore but thats fine because when you press your body against him again he pushes back and fuck fuck that feels so fucking good and its all still in your pants.

You fall into a steady rhythm of rutting against one another. John is making these soft little noises in the back of his throat and you can’t really stifle the grunts that are coming out of your mouth because every time he puts pressure on you this feeling hotly builds in the bottom of your stomach and you know what’s going to happen soon if -.

Shit very soon. You need to give him some warning before its -

Too late.

“John fuck I’m going to – oh.” Definitely too late.

You grind against him erratically and you mind goes blank except for this feeling of ecstasy and shit this feels so good as all that heat spills out of you at once and you literally cream your jeans.

You realize after a few seconds that you were loud as fuck. John is leaning back against the seat, breathing heavily and working his bottom lip with his teeth. The look he’s giving you is nothing short of lascivious.

It takes a few seconds for the pleasurable fog to clear from your brain. You are fucking sticky. And there is a distinct wet spot spreading its way across the front of your pants.

John looks you in the eye and thrusts his hips up into you. Oh right. Reciprocation. Crap you almost forgot about his raging boner.

You sink down on him and your balls make a squelching sound. Nice. He doesn’t seem to care though because he throws his head back and bites his lip and damn if that isn’t the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

It doesn’t take long before he wraps his hands around your hips and pulls you almost painfully close.

“Daaave. God.” He shudders and groans deeply, rocking against you for a few seconds before collapsing limply against the headrest.

You fall onto the seat next to him and lean against his shoulder.

“That was.” His breath is ragged. “Amazing.”

“Yep,” is all you can manage.

The two of you sit there for a few minutes, until the drying cum starts to itch. John crawls back into the drivers seat and starts the air conditioning. You didn’t realize how sweaty you were but shit its like a sauna in the car.

“I don’t think I can go home like this.” John points at his sweaty hair and overall disheveled appearance.

“Wouldn’t want dear fatherly Egbert knowing what his baby boy has been up to.” John punches you.

“We sort of. Got off in his car.”

“Yeah, so?”

John shrugs and looks anxious for a second before smiling widely.

“I guess what dad doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“Exactly.” You make a show of kissing his cheek. He turns at the last second and captures your lips with his own.

Its easier than you expected.


	8. davekat: black to red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you want to request something i'll write it for you
> 
> send me a msg here or to backspaceunlimited.tumblr.com

Alright. You’re going to do this. You’re going to enter the fucking den of unsurpassed douchebaggery. You are going to open that stupid sliding metal door and hope that the ensuing smell doesn’t knock you flat the fuck out onto the floor. If that scenario does in fact happen, you are going to pray to whatever dark terrors lurk out in the void that you land head first, so your horns can be forcibly knocked through your reasoning hemisphere.

You are going to do this. You are going to beat the shit out of Dave Strider.

Knocking is for stupid grubs who still shit their pants. You burst through the door in a flurry of fangs and sickles and harsh attitude.

“You wanted a fight you raging pustule, well its fucking here. Got us a table for two at the slaughterhouse, ordered you a steaming plate of hoofbeast leavings and a fluted glass of FUCK YOU.”

“I feel like something is on your mind Karkles.” Dave is seated at his desk. When you make your imposing entrance, he doesn’t even bother looking up from the stupid piece of paper that he’s scratching on.

“You very well fucking know what you did, you inordinate piece of shit.” You advance to the middle of his room, holding your sickles in a lowered fighting stance. He still doesn’t look up.

“Nope. Can’t say I do.”

Fine. If he wants to keep up the apathy, that is fine with you. It’ll make it easier to hack open his throat if he doesn’t move.

“Oh my fucking gog, you are the most awful thing to ever-”

Clash.

Oh.

You barely move in time to block a half-sword from slicing right through your face. The metal of your sickle squeals fang-achingly against Dave’s blade, nestled suddenly in its concavity. Big fucking Hero of Time, its not fair how quick he is.

“Don’t say gog. That’s Terezi and I’s thing.” He thrusts his sword hand upward, and you can’t keep your grip on the handle of your sickle. It flies across the room and lands with a clatter. “It sounds stupid when you say it.”

“I can say whatever I want shitstain.” Luckily you still have your other -

Never mind. Dave smacks your other wrist with the flat of his sword and you shamelessly drop your weapon. Damnit.

You thought he would just let it go, having disarmed you in an embarrassingly short period of time. But he doesn’t. Instead, he advances, placing the jagged steel end of his half-blade against your throat. You have to slowly step back to keep from being impaled.

His face is unreadable, which is almost as infuriating as when he plasters that stupid crooked smirk all over his ugly maw. You fucking hate him.

Not _hate_ hate. Just regular platonic hate.

Well, maybe you _hate_ hate him a little. Fuck.

The back of your knees hit something and you halt. Daves blade keeps pressing forward and you can feel your blood thumping through your throat.

“What exactly do you think I did?”

“You stole my DVD of Feisty Female Troll Tries To Advance Her Career By Writing A Controversial Trollzine Piece Entitled How To Lose A Matesprit In 10 Days By Acting Stereotypically Terrible To Said Matesprit And Trying To Get Him To Break Up With Her But She Doesn’t Know That Said Matesprit Is Also Betting With Friends On How Long She Will Stay With Him If He Acts Terrible To Her.”

The longer the title goes, the more Dave’s eyebrows knit together.

“Karkat, you’re forgetting that everything you love is a load of shit that not one else would ever want to touch. So no, I did not take your romcom. And anyway, can’t you just alchemize another one?”

“It might be hard for you to process this, because you only have two brain cells swimming around in your hollow thinkpan, but that was my original copy.”

“Sucks for you then.” He pushes his hand forward and fuck if you don’t move back he’s going to actually cut you. You lean back as far as you can before losing your balance and landing with a soft oof on Dave’s bed.

Before you can even think of rolling off to the side, you’ve got a tunnel view full of Strider as he straddles your torso and pins your hands with his knees.

“GET OFF ME you piece of shit.”

“Suddenly the disadvantaged ferocious troll doesn’t want to fight. Convenient.”

“This isn’t even close to fair, you … stupid faced idiot.”

“Clever comeback Karkles. And how is this not fair.” He takes the opportunity to roll his hips and you squirm beneath his body.

“Thanks for the offer Strider, but I’d rather rip my own bulge out by the root than have you get anywhere near it.”

Dave responds by shifting his weight backwards, and you think he is going to finally let you up. What comes next is the exact opposite of that scenario, and it takes your mind a second to catch up to the fact that Dave fucking Strider decided that this was an appropriate time to kiss you.

The kiss is tentative and way less forceful than you expected coming from him.

“Oh my nookfisting FUCK you impotent douche, you aren’t supposed to MMMmmph.”

That one was a little more forceful.

“Nookfisting huh?” Dave mumbles against your mouth before breaking the kiss. His breath is hot against your lips.

“MmFUCK. NO.” You have no fucking clue what is going on. You just know that this kiss shatters more fucking societal rules than you even want to contemplate.

He leans down again, this time taking your bottom lip in his dull teeth and biting down. It doesn’t hurt nearly as much as a blackrom bite should.

What are you even thinking, this is not even close to kismessitude.

“You aren’t supposed to kiss me asshole.”

“Why not?” You feel a hot flush creeping up your cheeks.

“Quadrants.” Your voice is huskier than normal fuckfuckfuck your fucking body is a traitor.

“I don’t give a damn.”

You hear Dave inhale slightly before he presses his lips to yours again. Its not like you’ve had much experience other than with a crazy blind girl, but even from your limited perspective this is so weird.

It gets even weirder when something slimy and awkwardly smooth is shoved past your lips.

Oh. That’s tongue. That’s human tongue and its way thicker and wetter than you were expecting and fuck ok no you aren’t doing this. No.

You do this anyway.

He runs his tongue along your sharp teeth, feeling the jagged grooves. You reciprocate as hard as you can, trying to salvage any trace of blackrom that might still be lingering in this fucking awful embrace.

“Hrruh.” Dave makes a strange guttural noise and pulls back to stare at you. “Its rough. Your tongue is rough, Karkitty.” He smirks and you want to claw his eyes out.

“Well yours feels like a rotting grub so fuck you. This is so fucking stupid I want to shove a culling fork through my skull. Why are you kissing me anyway.”

“It’s pissing you off right?” Dave’s smirk widens into an infuriating grin. “Isn’t that what this kismewhatever is all about?”

“NO. You are a complete idiot. We are NOT doing this holy shit.” Its time to end this.

You flail around beneath Dave as hard as you can, utilizing your legs mostly because he’s still got your hands pinned. Your knee connects with some solid flesh and you hope you can at least bruise that fucker.

You aren’t expecting Dave to let out a high pitched shriek and fall backwards off the bed. You hear his heavy body land on the floor, and he groans.

You’re not sure if this is part of the human mating ritual or not.

Cautiously, you roll over and peek over the edge of the bed. The scene greeting your eyes is one of the most beautiful that you’ve seen since you landed on this godforsaken meteor.

Dave is hugging his knees to his chest and has one hand tucked between them. You think you see him shaking slightly. He lets out another groan and turns his head to face you.

“F-fuck you dude. That’s not even remotely cool.” His voice is tinged with pain. Suddenly you’re not feeling so self-satisfied.

“Wait. What are you doing.”

“You kneed me in the balls.”

“What the fuck are balls?”

“FUCK no. I am not giving you a fucking human anatomy lesson right now. This is not happening.” Dave inhales sharply and you think you hear a sniffle.

Is he crying. Is he actually crying. Holy shit. You made Dave Strider cry.

And for some strange reason, you aren’t happy about it in the slightest.

Before you can even reevaluate the situation, you climb down onto the floor next to him. His cape is tangled between his legs and you place a tentative hand on the small of his back.

He hisses between his teeth at the contact, but his muscles relax slightly. You sort of rub him there for a while until he unfolds his knees.

Dave takes a deep breath and rolls onto his back, staring at the metal pipes running across the ceiling. Moments of silence stretch tensely in the air. You don’t really know what to say to someone whose weird alien genitalia you just accidentally kicked. Especially if said weird alien genitalia belongs to Dave Strider.

Dave startles you by barking out a laugh. He runs his hands up under his shades and rubs at his eyes. “Karkat, I did take your shitty romcom. Its on my desk.”

You don’t really know what to say. You do know that your body is entirely too warm and that you feel really guilty about hitting his human balls.

You’re a complete and total fucking sap.

“Do you want to watch it?” You are the idiot. Its you. Fuck you even just referenced his shitty comic in your mind. Damnit Vantas.

“I already tried. There’s too much gnashing in your bullshit language for me to figure anything out.” He clicks his tongue with a sickening squelch.

“I could translate.”

“Fine, but only if you promise not to go near my junk.”

“No fucking problem Strider, you just keep your hands off me.”

“No promises.” He gives you that infuriating smirk again, which seems a little less infuriating now that you’ve seen him cry. “Besides, kismesis has the words ‘kiss’ and ‘me’ right in it.”

“Just shut up.”

There’s a stupid emotion blossoming in your chest. You don’t think its friendship.


	9. johndave: blackrom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you want to request something i'll write it for you
> 
> send me a msg here or to backspaceunlimited.tumblr.com

He’s lucky you’re a patient guy. Anyone else making you wait ten extra minutes in a grungy alley would probably not leave said alley with all of their limbs functioning.

Even so, this is an important meeting for multiple reasons, and to let your pride overtake your meticulous calculations would be complete folly. And also totally uncool.

So you wait, mentally ticking down the seconds and looking out for a possible trap. You don’t think he would try to trick you. But then again, the guy’s sort of an enigma. You already ushered one homeless man out at knife-point just to be safe, although the frailty with which he pleaded against being gutted was indication enough that he was harmless.

You adjust the red bandanna wrapped loosely around your neck. Its a stupid symbol, and not one that you really need in this context. But at this point the situation is about power, and power is all about mind games.

You are the master of manipulation. John Egbert is a dense brute.

Dense and very late. A less clever guy than you would take that as an act of war. You could easily summon your members and launch a territorial attack in the dead of night, it would be so easy. Unfortunately its one that would have high cost for yourself and all the people who view you as a leader.

These ruminations fill the spare time until you hear the crunch of gravel coming from one side of the alley. Fuck, you had assumed he would come in the other side. One miscalculation. You subtly shift your body posture towards him, glancing up nonchalantly in the darkness through the extra veil of your shades.

He walks with a heavy stride, like his footfalls should dig into the ground and leave a trail in his wake. He’s large and obviously muscular, dark in hair and complexion, with a mouth severely in need of dental work that gives him a deep, slight nasality to his tone of voice. The ironic contrast of his features with your lean fair form isn’t lost on anyone.

He sports a large blue plug in his left earlobe. You’re sure the idiot had it stretched to a smaller gauge in preparation for this meeting. Its the decree of a complete dumbass to have a gang symbol that requires conspicuous body modification. Your members can simply take off their bandannas if the mission necessitates subtlety.

Of course, there’s nothing subtle about him. Or about his gang. Finesse is more your area of expertise.

“Strider.” He halts in front of you, stirring the dust around his feet.

“Well hey there Egbert, I was beginnin’ to worry that somethin’ed happened to you on the way over.”

“The only one dumb enough to try anything would have been you.” He spits on the ground next to him. “Lets get this over with.”

“Fine.” You reach your hand to fumble in your back pocket. Egbert’s posture stiffens.

You keep your knife up your sleeve, not in your pocket. He doesn’t know that. But now you know where he keeps his knife.

You pull out a folded map and undo the creases. A grid of the city is sloppily printed on the page, and you’ve drawn distinct blue and red borders around your respective territories.

This is a business consultation. A secret one. If either of your gangs knew that their leaders were chatting to divvy up land, there would likely be an uprising.

You both have your reasons though.

His drive is numbers. He needs space to roam, otherwise his people will start gnawing at their leashes. With a conspicuous large group, it would be much easier for a faction of his people to go renegade. He could likely crush any factions that split off, but it would be messy.

You’ve got economics on lockdown in your area with the drug trade, and its no small secret that local politicians and socialites use your services frequently.

Petty gang wars over street corners would break the delicate balance in place. Even John’s pathetic mind can process this fact, albeit rather slowly.

“Give it here.” Egbert grabs the paper roughly and examines it through his cartoonishly square frames.

“I see you’ve give yourself access to the Capitol building.” He traces the red line with his finger. “And the business district.”

He frowns and looks at you firmly. “Doesn’t seem fair does it?” His words have a underscoring bite to them that would make a lesser man want to fucking hide. You’ll admit that, for a split second, you contemplate making a run for it. But then you realize that you’re intellectually superior and you can talk him into anything.

“Yeah Egbert, cause that’s what my people need, remember? Look, I’ve given you the shopping centre an’ all the industrial areas. Gives y’space to spread out, and plenty of rich assholes to loot from.”

His brow furrows and you know he’s having to think extra hard about this. When you’ve only got three or four brain cells, cognition gets to be a little more difficult.

“But what’s this?” His voice is dripping with mock curiosity and fuck you were hoping he didn’t see that. Two miscalculations.

You’ve given him the entire industrial district except for access to the shipping docks, which you need in order to pass drugs through as few hands as possible.

“Y’know we’ve been usin’ that area. Its ours.” You cock your head at him, trying to keep a deadpan when he flexes his fingers.

“I know your people need it. But it doesn’t fit.” He grins in the low light and those shitty teeth of his. “What do I get in return.”

“Nothin’.” Your voice is flat. “You already have more space than I do.”

“But I’m the bigger gang.” He takes a step forward menacingly. You think you could probably slip past him if he tries anything.

“I don’t give a fuck. This ain’t a dick measurin’ contest.”

He moves faster than you expected and slams you into the wall by your collarbone. Three miscalculations.

You flick your knife out and press it to his throat. Before he can process and react, you reach around to his ass and grab his own knife from his back pocket.

Its an impasse. He’s got two blades on his neck, and you are being choked into the wall.

Goddamn it Strider, think. You would use your silver tongue, except for the fact that breathing is becoming difficult.

He grins at you. His breath smells horrible.

“You wanna make this a dick measuring contest Strider?”

He takes one huge hand and cups your crotch, pressing hard into the fabric. You’ve lost count of all your miscalculations.

“What the fuck” is all you can manage to choke out before he rips the button off your pants and tugs down your zipper.

He takes no time pulling your cock out from your underwear, and starts immediately pumping you roughly. The knives clatter to the ground.

“What are you – ahh.” Fuck. You can’t believe you’re getting off to this, to John fucking Egbert beating you off in some alley over gang territory. This is absurd.

You try to move away but he throws his forearm against your chest and you can’t move. At least you can finally breath, but all that does is open the babble floodgates.

“Egbert – John – What the hell I don’t – uhhhh – even fuckin’ are you doin’.” God this is embarrassing.

“Shut up Strider. Dick measuring.” He releases you long enough to spit into his palm, and then begins stoking you faster. The lessened friction feels fucking amazing and your brain is starting to fuzz over with the pleasurable sensation of it all.

“Let’s measure then.” While you can still function, you reach in front of you and tug his own dick from out of his loose-fitting sweats. His eyes widen behind his glasses and he bites his bottom lip as you squeeze him.

You’re panting heavily and Egbert – John – lets out a little moan as you slide up and down his shaft.

His dick is bigger.

Before you can get too into the motion, John presses his full body into yours, rutting hotly against your stomach. You let go of him out of surprise.

He takes the opportunity to use that massive hand of his to grab both of your cocks, pressing them together in his palm. You tentatively thrust your hips forward, and the feel of your dick sliding against his is almost more than you can take.

He bucks against you in his hand, and you return the motion, getting into a rhythm that has your cock heads sliding over one another, lubricated by precum.

John groans loudly and grits his teeth. Your deadpan has been smothered by the moans coming from your own mouth. You’re so fucking close.

You start to twitch beneath him, about to be pushed over the edge into your orgasm, and he stops moving. Your mouth whines pathetically before your brain has time to tell it not to. He shoves his free hand against your hips, immobilizing you completely.

“What do I get?” He’s panting hard, and his eyes bore straight through your shades. You just want to fucking cum.

“Bottom a’ downtown.” You manage to stammer it out between trying unsuccessfully to thrust into his hand. “Sixth ta’Sunset.”

“Red light district? You’ve got a deal Mr. Strider.” He thrusts hard and begins jacking off both your dicks with his hand and in a few seconds you are unraveling, spilling yourself all over the front of your shirt and over his hand and forearm.

You let out your loudest groan yet, arching your back and accidentally slamming your head into the cinderblock wall behind you.

“I fuckin’ hate you Egbert.”

He grunts and cums into his hand, thrusting shallowly through his orgasm. You just stare at him from over the top of your shades as he lets go and back away.

“Sixth to Sunset. We have a deal.” He extends his hand, and you shake it, realizing too late that its covered with both of your spunk.

“Catch you later Strider, I’m looking forward to our next meeting.” He tucks himself back into the front of his sweatpants and saunters out of the alley.

You just stand there like a tool with your dick out, wondering how the fuck John Egbert outwitted you.


	10. johndave: john 2x combo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you want to request something i'll write it for you
> 
> send me a msg here or to backspaceunlimited.tumblr.com

“I call this one The Lava Room.”

“Yes. I know. Every single room is named The Lava Room. You can stop telling me.”

“Not true, there’s one coming up that I dubbed Satan’s Asshole -“

“Okay.”

” - nicknamed The Lava Room for continuity’s sake.”

“Dave, you suck.”

“Hey, you wanted a formal tour of LOHAC, take it or leave it.”

Your planet is the total reversal of the cooling breezes and the soft blue-tinted glow of the fireflies that makes John’s planet fairly pleasant to hang out on. Here, the lava tinges everything with a filtered orange ambiance that shifts almost nauseatingly over the skin. Plus, its fucking hot.

“How about, ‘the room with the lava waterfall and the low-hanging pipes?’”

“Nah man, its not concise, the flow is all wrong.”

“Hmmph.” John wipes his forehead with the back of his hand and sighs heavily. His complexion is much darker than yours, but even so you can see that his skin is starting to flush from the heat.

“Are we almost done? Sorry Dave, but its too hot down here - “

The air in front of you suddenly crackles with something more disruptive than the ever-present heat waves. The sound of a record scratching fills the room, discordant and echoing from all the metallic surfaces. Or wait, actually it kind of sounds like a set of shitty monitors ripping themselves apart. Or maybe someone jumping on a sack of meat?

Whatever. Either way you know what’s up. John doesn’t. He yelps and covers his ears, but his eyes go wide when a pair of figures materialize in front of him.

Its not like you haven’t seen copies of yourself before, in various stages of mortality and undress. You give a thumbs up, and your alternate self adjusts his bowtie and returns the gesture. John just stares at his doppleganger, who is sporting the hugest dorky grin on his face.

The pair look disheveled, but they are dressed the same as you and John. Since you don’t remember any recent time shenanigans, you figure that they must be future iterations, though not that far into the future.

“I’m just going to leave this here.” Future Dave gestures to the version of John standing next to him. “Have fun and bring it back when you’re done.”

Future John glares at Dave and elbows him in the ribs. Dave snorts out a laugh before whipping out his timetables and disappearing with another sickening scratch.

Silence stretches for a few seconds until you sigh melodramatically. “Damn, now I have to babysit two Egberts.”

The Johns scrunch their faces into indignant and almost identical grimaces. Future John responds first, with a healthy dose of sass. “Shut up Dave.”

From the sly look on his face, you can assume that he’s got some sort of agenda. You also have the sneaking suspicion that his plan is not going to bode well for your dignity.

Of course you did send him back to yourself technically. So it can’t be that bad.

Future John takes a few steps forward to meet present John, and the two size each other up comically. Your John looks a little like his dead grandma just rose from the ashes and started baking him cookies or something. Wait, scratch that. He looks like something is freaking him out that hasn’t already happened yet in this twisted excuse for a universe.

Future John looks way more adjusted, and he motions for John to lean towards him with one long finger. Present John complies, and the pair starts whispering to one another.

You scuff the toe of your shoe against the metallic flooring, trying to look as uninterested as possible. Which probably fails because you really want to fucking know what’s going on.

A few seconds into the exchange, your John practically barks out a panicked “What???” Future John grins broadly and jesus fuck you have a bad feeling about this.

“Yep. Besides, it already happened, which means that it has to happen again.” Future John turns to you. “Right Dave? Time loops have to be kept stable, right?”

You swallow the burning lump of curiosity in your throat and try to give a leveled response. “Yeah. Otherwise dead dudes start showing up, and frankly I’d like to keep the corpses to a minimum.”

Your John has a bewildered expression on his face. This is exponentially exaggerated when future John mutters “See?” and then crushes his lips to John’s mouth.

“MMMmmmmph.” Your John is wide-eyed and hyperbolically shocked for about as long as it takes future John to slip him some tongue.

Oh.

Huh.

Fuck.

Future John tangles his hands in present John’s hair and moans obscenely. Your John bristles for less than a second before you see a shiver run down his spine and he returns a similar moan.

Ok, this is hotter than it should have any right being. Holy shit.

You want to cut in and put on some moves like a suave motherfucker, but frankly you can’t step from the spot because your jaw is firmly rooted to the floor. Ok Strider, get your shit together.

“Uhh, J-John?” Wow. Great stutter there dipshit.

Future John (wait, that’s him right? They both look similarly fucking disheveled at this point) breaks the kiss and turns to stare at you. His lips look wet and swollen, and his arms are still latched around the other John’s neck.

“Yeah Dave?” He smirks. Current John grins sheepishly and looks at the floor.

“I don’t want to interrupt the hot Egbert on Egbert action but -” You raise your eyebrows. “What the fuck is going on?”

Future John turns back to – well - himself. “I’ll get the stuff if you can keep him still.”

Present John nods. They disentangle from one another and begin walking towards you.

Ok.

This is either going to end very well or very badly.

Actually, you’re pretty ok with either outcome.

Shit.

The one you assume is future Johns whips out his sylladex and begins rifling around in it, accidentally projectile shooting a few random shoes into the lava stream. The other John casually walks over to you.

“I’m not actually going to have to hold you down, am I?”

“Maybe. Probably.”

John sighs and cards his fingers through his sweaty hair. His bicep flexes and you know that his fucking hammer arms could beat yours any day. You’ve got speed on him but still.

“Got it! Hold him.”

You realize too late that speed means nothing against strength when you actually aren’t paying goddamn attention to your surroundings.

John grips your shoulders tightly as future John approaches you, carrying what looks suspiciously like a bedsheet and a smaller bedsheet.

A bedsheet and a handkerchief.

“Get his shirt off, we won’t be able to when his wrists are tied.”

Bondage and a blindfold.

Fuck. “Whoa. Wait. What.”

“Just go with it.”

John’s grip on your left shoulder tightens and he starts to pull your right arm out of your suit jacket. You squirm a little for posterity’s sake, but honestly there’s no way that you could get away. And you’re not sure that you want to.

John tightens his grip further and wrenches your jacket off, followed swiftly by your clip-on bowtie. The bastard doesn’t even bother undoing the buttons on your shirt, he just pulls on the front until they either pop off or angle themselves out of the buttonhole. He yanks that off and tosses it onto the ground with your other clothes.

Its a hell of a lot cooler without your shirt on, so you honestly aren’t that uncomfortable. Well, at least not until future John gets close enough to actually grab one of your wrists. He pushes it up into the air and wraps part of the bedsheet around it. The John holding you forces your other wrist up, and together they tie some complicated series of knots until you a fully bound. A tentative tug shows that you have pretty much zero give.

You have a fleeting moment where you think its not so bad. Then one of the Johns grabs the tail end of the sheet and loops it over a low hanging pipe. It acts like a crude pulley system, and he tugs on his end until your arms are fully extended into the air.

You generally have something to say about damn near everything, but at the moment you’re at a loss for words. You’re kind of working your mouth like a super rad fish out of water, alternately gaping and pursing your lips.

“What’s the matter Dave? Is it too tight?” Fuck, ok, you definitely don’t know which John is which anymore.

“Nope.” Its just fucking exposing is all, no big deal. Adventures in bondage with your best bropal fuckfriend and his future self.

“Good.” A John secures the sheet by tying it tightly to another pipe. You tug lightly at the restraint, but its not going anywhere. Those fuckers must’ve been in boy scouts or some shit got all the fucking merit badges for tying knots or similar homoeuphemisms.

One of the Johns walks behind you, and there is the faint noise of cloth rustling. You try to spin around against the bedsheet, but the other John holds you firmly in place. You startle when a hand reaches around your head to remove your shades.

“Dude, wait just a fucking -“

The hand snakes around again, and this time a dark piece of fabric is placed across your eyes. You feel John pull it taut and tie it into place.

“How’s that?”

“Fuck you.” You can’t see a damn thing.

You hear two sets of giggles, and the sounds echoing around the room really fuck up your spacial awareness. You would have no idea where the Johns were, if not for the fact that you feel hands on your chest.

Three hands actually. And one in your hair.

Light touches trace around your collarbone, dipping to brush over your nipples and down your abs. One hand tugs at the roots of your hair and then trails down to the base of your neck.

Its one thing being with another person and not being able to anticipate the way that they are going touch you. Its a huge fucking other thing to not be able to see the patterns of their movements, having to completely let go of the expectation of knowing, and simply let the sensations of touch and pressure cloud your mind.

They’re doing a damn good job of it too. The places where John’s fingers touch you leave hot patches along your skin, like mere proximity elevates your atoms to a more excited state.

One of the hands grips your side tightly, and something warm and wet begins to lap around your nipple, sucking and nibbling lightly. A soft moan escapes your lips.

“You like that, huh Dave?”

“Nnnyes.”

You arch your back as another mouth begins kissing down your chest, tongue pausing to lightly swirl around your other nipple before trailing lower.

You feel a sharp bite at the skin around your hip, and its like a pulse of static electricity is released up your spine.

“Ohhhfuck.” You buck your hips and sag against the restraints. The sheet digs into the skin on your wrists, and the pipe groans above you.

You panic for a minute, thinking that the pipe is going to collapse on top of you, but then the mouth on your nipple is kissing upwards and soon you feel John’s hot breath against your lips.

“It’ll hold, don’t worry.” And then he’s shoving his tongue down your throat and fuck he tastes good and his mouth is so soft and when he bites your bottom lip you writhe in your restraints, desperately trying to kiss him as deeply as you can.

You almost don’t notice when your belt is loosened. Almost. However, its pretty fucking obvious when your pants and briefs are pulled down in one fell tug, and your dick pops out to salute The Lava Room.

“Hi there!” Oh my fucking god John is such a dork.

“Someone’s eager.”

John breaks the kiss, and then no one is touching you, and your body feels empty and neglected.

Suddenly though, a finger trails down the length of your cock and you moan into empty space. Two fingers trace you next, then an entire hand wraps around your length and starts to pump you.

“Joooohn oh god.”

“Yes?”

“What?”

You moan and two hands return to lightly tracing your stomach, occasionally dipping lower to join the hand slowly jacking you.

“Do you like this Dave?” John’s voice catches, and you hear the other John chuckle.

“Fuckin’. Suck me or something damnit.”

“Ask nicely.”

The metal flooring creaks, and the hands on your body pull back, leaving you empty once more.

You can’t fucking stand this. The noise that comes out of your throat is a fucking needy whimper and both John’s laugh.

“Use your words Dave.”

“Maybe if you’re nice we’ll even take off the blindfold.”

“Maybe.”

You do your best to level your voice, but what comes out is still shaky and thick.

“John. Johns. Please just. Fuck.” One of them brushes your cock again with a fingertip and that statement devolves into a gasp.

“What do you think? That was pretty nice, for Dave at least.”

“I think he can do better.”

You take a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down, but then someone strokes down your length again and you sag against the bedsheet,

“Please.” God he’s never going to let your live this down.

“Fine.” You hear shifting bodies, and one of them grabs your cock again. You thrust into it, but a firm hand on your hip keeps you from anything except a shallow rutting.

You also feel hands tangle and fumble in your hair, and suddenly the cloth around your eyes loosens and falls away.

The John gripping your cock smiles wickedly at your half-lidded eyes. The other John steps back around the front of you.

“God Dave, you look pretty hot and bothered.”

“No – unnhh – shit dude.”

“I guess you earned a little reward.”

The John not currently jacking you drops to his knees and takes the tip of your cock into his mouth. He looks up at the other John, and through some weird self intuition the two get a rhythm working that is just too fucking much.

Your moans reverberate around the room, and holy shit you are totally going to get off to this. John starts to suck harder and you feel heat starting to pool at the base of your stomach and god you are going to cum in just a few -

Annnd of course they pull back. You thrust your hips into the air and pull against your bonds, letting out a frustrated groan.

“I’m so close holy fuck why did you stop.”

“You can’t just cum without permission Dave.” Blowjob John sits back on his heels.

“Besides - ” He tugs on handjob John’s pant leg. “We’re not finished yet.”

The other John crouches, and they share a pointed look.

“Want to try …?”

“Sure.”

Both Johns lean into your cock and begin to lick stripes up and down either side. They meet at the tip, and their tongues intertwine over the ridge of your cock head.

“Fffuck John. Goddamn.”

They take turns sucking on your tip, pausing between trade-offs to make out with each other around your dick. You could probably get off to the fucking sight of them alone, but with the added stimulation of both tongues, you are quickly reaching your peak again.

“Ssshit, John, I’m going to -” You shudder. “Please.”

Two hands reach up and pump you as two mouths lick your tip and god fucking damnit you are cumming hard, bucking against the ropes until the pipes above you are moaning as loud as you are.

You slam your eyes shut through your orgasm, but when you open them again, both Johns are looking up at you lustily, little spurts of your cum dotted on both of their cheeks.

“Damn.”

“Wow.”

You try to steady your breathing and find your legs, which have pretty much turned to fucking jelly. The Johns stand up and help to steady you on your feet, then untie your hands.

Your wrists are kind of red and raw, but you don’t even fucking care. Both Johns are grinning profusely, and they help you pull your pants and shirt back on. You lean down and grab your shades from where they were set on the ground.

“Damn Egbert. Egberts. Just damn.”

“Did you like it?”

“Yeah, it was alright.”

They both elbow you in the ribs and you grin lopsidedly.

You would love to continue the afterglow and maybe have a round two of whatever the fuck this selfcest threesome thing was, but something in your gut is starting to feel like stable time loops trying to shatter.

“Hey, which one of you hasn’t time traveled yet?”

The John on your right raises his hand.

“Alright then.”

You grab John’s arm in the crook of your elbow and engage your timetables. The world melts around you with deafening scratch, and suddenly you are face-to-face with yourself and past John.

They look confused. You smirk.

“I’m just going to leave this here. Have fun and bring it back when you’re done.”


	11. johndave: drunk sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ********** this one needs a warning for underaged (american) drinking. i wrote them in my head as late teens but if you aren't into it be forewarned <3 **********

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you want to request something i'll write it for you
> 
> send me a msg here or to backspaceunlimited.tumblr.com

Dave.

Dave.

Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaveeeeeeeeeeee.

Wait. How do you hold out a silent E. Its fucking silent.

Hehehehehehehehehehe.

Daaaaaavvvvvvvvvvveeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

Why isn’t he answering. What a dummy. He can totally hear you.

Wait. No he can’t. You didn’t say anything out loud.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuckkkkkkkkkkkkkk.

Kuhkuhkuhkuhkuhkuhkuhkuhkuhkuhkuh. Extended K bitches.

Hehehehehehehehehehehhehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehe.

Dave. Shit.

“Dave.”

“Wut.”

“I think I’m drunk.”

“W’fuckin gave ya’that clue.”

Dave stretches luxuriously, sinking further into the futon and splaying his arms across your lap. His foot kicks a bottle on the coffee table, sending it skittering over the edge.

Awwwwwwww. There goes the orange wine thing. The wine cooler. Dave said that they are Bro’s favorite. That’s why he had them in the sword fridge.

Heheheheheheheehehehehhehehe.

Big manly Bro sipping on his wine coolers. You’ll have to make fun of him when he gets back from his DJ show or whatever.

Wait. The orange coolers are called something funny, what are they called.

The Fuzzy Navel. B&J Fuzzy Navel.

Heheheheheheheheheh.

“Dave.”

“Wut.”

“BJ my Fuzzy Navel.”

Dave buries his head into the futon cushions and starts to giggle.

“Eb-gert, are you tryna get fresh with me.” His speech is muffled and slurred, and that silly accent is almost as strong as his brother’s when he’s not trying to hide it.

Awww. Daaaavvveeeeee.

“Maaaaaaybeeeeeee.” That E is totally not silent. Totally capable of being held out.

Fuck yeah voiced Es.

You run your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp as you go. He flops over and puts his head in your lap, letting out a small groan.

“Does that even feel good? Is this sexy?”

“Wut.”

Oops. Shit. “I said that out loud.”.

Hehehehehehehehehehhehehehe.

He giggles again and rolls over and now his face is in your lap. You don’t know what he’s doing but it involves the zipper of your shorts and pressure on your dick.

“What’re you doing Dave?” You feel a tug as the zipper comes undone.

He turns his head slightly and you see that he has the zipper in his teeth.

“Whaddoes it look like? Tryna blow your hairy navel. Or whatever.”

“Oh.”

He moves slightly and you feel him grapple with the button in his teeth. After about ten seconds of fumbling with it, his head falls to the side in you lap.

“John I’want your cock in ma’mouth, but yr’pants won’t let me.”

Ehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehe. Dave.

You reach down and tug on the button until it comes undone, then push back the fabric to reveal your boxers.

Dave giggles again and rolls off the end of the futon, landing with a thunk on the floor.

“Noooooo. Daaaave.” You lean forward to see if he’s ok, but he’s already pushing himself back up on his knees between your legs.

He’s grinning more than you’ve see him smile practically ever, and he tugs on your shorts, trying to pull them off. You raise your butt slightly and he yanks them down to your ankles.

He runs his hands up and down your thighs, pausing on the upstroke to squeeze your dick through your boxers.

“Daaaaaaaaaaaaave. Hurry uuup.”

“Naw. Not yet. Take off your shirt”

You raise the hem and trying to pull it over your head.

Dumb shirt. What do shirts have against glasses. Why do they always try to take them off. You flail around in the fabric for a few seconds until you get one arm out, then rip the shirt off and toss it over your shoulder.

You re-adjust your glasses and look down at Dave, who has a hand on his forehead and is laughing hysterically at your wardrobe issues.

“S’not that funny.”

“Yeah it is.”

He composes himself and leans between your legs, placing his open mouth on the protruding fabric covering your dick. He sucks a little and whoa this feels great when your brain is all fuzzy. You just want him to start licking you.

“Dave. Touch my boner.”

“I’m all over touchin’ your sexy wiener.” He slips his fingers under the waistband of your boxers and pulls them down. You cock pops out into his face.

Dave smirks. “There’s Private Johnson, salutin’ me like the goddamn best li’l soldier there is.” He grabs your shaft roughly and slides his palm down the length.

“What’sthat sir? Yr’askin’ me to prepare the mayonnaise cannon? Firin’ trebuchets on ALL the fuckin’ cylinders ‘n I mean ALL of ‘em.”

Oh my god Dave’s dirty talk is the worst. Oh my god Dave is handfucking your dick. Oh my god Dave is squeezing your balls and you shift your hips to get him better access and your mouth lets out a small moan when he licks the precum from your slit.

“Right, where’was I? Oh yeah, bas’cly this thing could lead a fuckin’ army, conduct the symphony playin’ the mos’ epic arrangement of the motherfuckin’ 1812 Overture anybody ever heard, cuin’ up the cannon booms with mighty strokes ‘a your beef baton.”

He slowly slides his lips onto you until they slip over the ridge of your cockhead, and his tongue swirls around your tip as he sucks. One of his hands traces light circles on you inner thigh as the other pumps the length of your cock that isn’t in his mouth.

Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. Fuuuuuuck. His mouth is so hot and goddamn that tongue is just fucking -

He slides off you with a pop. “Your cock is like six inches ‘a throbbin’ pink Jesus, takin’ followers t’the fabled glory hole, rewardin’ people smart enough t’worship your fandangled mandangler. Goddamn.”

“Daaave.” You realize that you are panting and thrusting in time with his strokes. He sends you a lopsided grin, then squeezes his fingers around your cockhead. You moan obscenely.

“Dave c’mon.”

He places your cock his cheek, and rubs the head across his lips and chin, darting his tongue out to slick it all up.

Holy wow that feels good. Dave. Dave. Dave.

Suddenly he lets go of your cock and leans back onto his heels.

“Be ri’back,” he mumbles, stumbling to his feet. He knocks into the coffee table, sending more bottles crashing to the floor.

What. Wait. Where are you going.

You feel him grip the back of the futon for balance, and then hear a body crash into the wall behind you. The futon squeaks when you turn around and see him trip through the door to his bedroom.

You hear fumbling and some cursing, as well as two or three hard thumps against the wall. Just as you are numbly wondering whether you should try to get up and go save him, the door to his bedroom wrenches open again, and he comes stumbling back out.

Completely nude. With lube in hand.

Fuckkkkkk kuhkuhkuhkuhkuh fucking kuh.

Yes.

Instead of walking around the futon, he falls over the back of it, landing on his stomach with a grunt.

“Let’s fuck.” His face is smooshed into the couch, and he holds up the small bottle of lube in his hand.

You grab the bottle as he tries to haul himself into a sitting position. The cap flips open easily, and you squeeze the bottle over the side of your dick.

Dave watches you work the lube over your length, you panting softly.

“My turn.” He tries to straddle you with his knees, but ends up falling across your chest.

“Goddamn.” He wraps his arms around your neck to steady himself as he hooks one leg over your lap. The tip of your dick brushes against the cleft of his ass and you thrust your hips into the sensation.

He jerks slightly before slowly spreading his legs. You reach underneath his body and feel around for his hole with your lube covered finger.

He probably needs more prep than this, but as soon as you’ve traced around his entrance he leans back and swats your hand away. He grabs your dick, aligns himself, then sinks down a few inches.

“Fuuuuck fuck fuck fuck damn John oww fuck.”

God you just want to bury yourself in his ass. He’s so tight and you know you didn’t prep him any, but he didn’t let you. Your head isn’t even all the way in yet and you squeeze your eyes closed to keep yourself from bucking into him.

“God I’don’t have fuckin’ time for this.”

You peek your eyes open as he grips your shoulders with his stubby fingernails. Very deliberately he sinks down onto you further. You feel your cockhead push past his entrance, and you groan.

Dave winces. Shit you’re probably hurting him. Maybe you should ask.

“Does this hurt?”

“M’drunk ‘n horny and I’m goin’ to fuck myself on your dick. Shut up n’let me.”

Okay.

He takes a little more of you inside him and you can’t help it this time. You thrust into him slightly with a moan.

He grunts and pushes his hips down, biting his lip hard. You feel his ass cheeks brush against your to your hips and a shudder run up his spine.

“Give it’a minute.”

“Mmkay.” He leans into you, and you press your lips against his, immediately giving him tongue. I mean he’s already on your dick, might as well skip to the making out, right?

He responds similarly and loops his arms around your neck, meeting your tongue with his own. He’s really into it and its hot. Dave is hot. Some drool runs down your chin and you lick and suck on his bottom lip.

Talk about sloppy makeouts.

Hehehehehehehehehehehehhe.

You actually chuckle into his mouth and you feel him smile against you before his raises his hips slightly and grinds into your lap.

Okay. Fuck. Wow Dave is hot. Dave is on your dick. You are fucking Dave. Damn.

You return the motion, shallowly moving inside him, which probably hurts less than full fucking.

His hands trail down your chest and finds your nipples. He rubs them with his thumbs. You moan and buck hard into his ass.

“Goddaaaamn.” He throws his head back, and you grab his hips to keep him from losing balance.

“Fuckin’ fuck dude.” You slam into him again, and he rolls on top of you.

His dick rests against your stomach, and he takes it in his hand and begins jerking himself in time to your thrusts.

The room fills with the sounds of your panting and Dave’s increasingly loud moaning. Your brain is pretty fucked up right now, and you honestly are having a hard time really registering the sensations as anything except one big pleasurable motion.

So yeah, you blame the alcohol on the fact that don’t warn Dave when you cum into his ass.

Your hips lock up and you pull Dave’s hips down fully onto your length.

“Daaaaaaaave. Shit.”

He does his best to ride out your orgasm, and continues jacking himself even after you’ve stopped moving inside him. It only takes a few seconds for his motions to get erratic, and he lets out this sort of girly high pitched squeak when he blows his load all over your stomach.

He collapses onto you, burying his forehead into your shoulder and just basically being a dead weight on your chest. You pull out with a wet popping sound, and just lay there for a few minutes, listening to both of your breathing slow down, reveling in the foggy tingling sensations that are still running through your body.

Drunk is good. Drunksex is good. Dave is good. Dave is fucking amazing.

Dave. Shit.

“Dave.”

No response. You actually said that one out loud, you know it.

“Dave.”

You hear a sigh, followed by a softly snoring inhale.

Wait. He fell asleep. Dave fell asleep.

You nudge him a little with your shoulder. He groans and falls sideways to lay horizontally on the futon.

 

Gosh he’s cute. Dave is fucking cute.

You squirm your way in to lay next to him, and he reaches out wraps his arms around your neck, pulling your body flush to his. The cum on your stomach squelches kind of grossly between your bodies, and the parts that have dried kind of pull at the hairs on your navel.

Your fuzzy navel. Heh.

Hehehehehehehehehehehhehehe.


End file.
